


'cause spider-man comes tonight

by spidermanhomecomeme



Series: all these things and more, darling [4]
Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Bad Dirty Talk, Bad Jokes, Bad Jokes as Foreplay, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Gremlins, Holidays, Idiots in Love, Michelle Jones is a Saint, Peter Parker is a thot, Smut, but make it festive, the both of them, the dirty talk fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:54:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28137264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spidermanhomecomeme/pseuds/spidermanhomecomeme
Summary: the five times Peter makes MJ roll her eyes, and the one time... well... he still does.
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Series: all these things and more, darling [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2055570
Comments: 28
Kudos: 72
Collections: Twelve Days of Promptmas





	'cause spider-man comes tonight

**Author's Note:**

> so.... day four of promptmas.... HERE WE GO
> 
> the dirty talk fic pt. 2
> 
> make it ~festive~
> 
> It also ended up a little different than the first one! So more plot-ish?   
> enjoy!!

i.

“Good moooorning.”

Peter’s voice is gentle, almost singing against her bare skin as his lips trail kisses along her shoulder. 

Michelle shifts, grumbling at the soft, dragging touches. 

Still, he persists, his breath tickling. “Wake up.”

And as annoyed as she is for being woken up, she can’t help but smile as he snuggles against her, his arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her close. “Too early…” She mumbles sleepily into the pillow, nestling further into the blankets. 

Peter huffs out a laugh, his lips pausing momentarily over the strap of her tank top before he keeps going. “Didn’t you wanna go to shopping today? For the party?” He reasons, though MJ knows for a fact that the purpose in all of this isn’t to get the two of them out of bed, per se. 

No, his intentions are _perfectly clear._

“Not at—” She barely cranes her head up, glancing at her phone on the bedside table. “—nine in the morning.” 

“Wow, so early,” he mumbles against her skin. 

Her expression contorts when he finds a particularly ticklish spot on her neck, half-heartedly warning him as she tries to twist away from his mouth. “Hey.”

“What?” He chuckles, cuddling closer, arms locking around her, pressing his cheek into her shoulder blade as he gives her a loving squeeze. “Does that tickle?” 

He knows the answer already, the little shit, and she can’t help but lightly smack his arm in response. 

He laughs again, a sound that makes a comforting warmth bloom in her chest. It’s good that he can’t see her face, that his is burrowing into her shoulder, to see the light smile tugging at her lips, the way her eyes close again as she breathes out a contented sigh. 

Though, his touches soon turn less than innocent, and he’s whispering filthy nothings into her ear as his hands shamelessly roam her body, as he presses his hardness against her. While some of what he says is of the highest quality—he’s actually great at dirty talk when he wants to be—there’s always that one line he has to sneak in there. 

Sure, “I have a _big_ present for you,” as he pokes her in the back of thigh with his morning wood isn’t necessarily _groundbreaking_ , or his worst yet, but it’s still enough to coax a slightly undignified snort out of her. 

Finally, she turns over to face him, eyeing him carefully, a single brow raised. “Oh really?” 

Peter nods, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. “I sure do.” 

“Of course.” Her tongue presses against the inside of her cheek as she fights the urge to roll her eyes and laugh. 

When she doesn’t say anything else he nudges her. “Are you not gonna ask what it is?”

“I think I have a pretty good idea—” She glances down. “—It’s either an actual present… or, if I know you well enough, which unfortunately, I do—” She meets his gaze again. “It’s your dick.”

“Bingo.” He throws in a wink for good measure. 

“I thought I already got that present, though?” MJ asks, trying to stay casual. “Eight nights in a row?”

_“That_ was for me,” Peter insists. “This—” He bites is his lip, pressing himself against her again. “Is for you. You can even have it early. As a treat.”

She can’t help but laugh as he leans in to kiss her, pressing her palm against his chest to keep him away. “Not supposed to open anything till Christmas. Come on, man, you know the rules.” 

“Good thing I’m not wrapping it.”

The double meaning gets another snort out of her, and she playfully dodges him again as his lips press into the corner of her mouth. “Peter—”

“I can put a little bow on it if you want?”

All she can do is shake her head in response and pray that she can suppress her laugh for just a second longer. “I swear… To _God.”_

“Love you, too,” he grins, leaning in to kiss her fully this time.

But once again, she stops him, scooting away from him. “Wait, no. Morning breath.” 

Peter pauses, his hand lingering on her waist, lip caught in his teeth in thought. She has a point there, at least she sees him thinking it through. He shrugs. “I mean, there’s doggy… reverse cowgirl… deck the halls.”

“Deck the halls?” Michelle’s brow furrows in confusion. 

“I’ll deck _your halls_ with _my boughs of holly,_ ” he winks again.

“That’s not even a position, you just wanted to make a joke,” she playfully pushes him.

He shrugs.

Does she hate him?

Who knows?

Is this turning her on still, as stupid as it is?

Maybe.

“Now, come on,” he says, patting his legs, inviting her to climb onto his lap. “Hop on.” 

“So romantic,” she deadpans with a quirk of her brow. 

But does that mean she’s giving in so soon? 

Absolutely not. 

Some restraint and discipline would be good for them both. 

They have things to do today. 

Namely, getting ready for Flash’s big holiday bash tonight. 

“Maybe later, okay?” A knowing, sly grin stretches across her face as she pats him twice on the cheek, climbing up from the bed before he can protest. 

He huffs out a laugh, looking up at her with borderline pleading eyes. So innocent a look for so definitely not-innocent a request. “Please?”

“Nuh uh,” she says as she starts rifling through her dresser. She makes a show of getting dressed, slowly peeling her tank top off. He grins, his eyes instantly taking in the sight of her bare chest, before she’s tossing the shirt at him. He catches it easily, his gaze never leaving hers. 

“We have to go shopping.”

ii.

Why she thought it was ever a good idea to let Peter peruse the holiday section of the local Michael’s with her, she has no idea. 

Especially when he’s in the mood he’s been in all morning—for the entirety of their relationship, really.

One minute, he’s by her side, holding out different festive candles for her to smell as she looks at the different coffee mugs and tea sets, and the next he’s throwing her a wink and a subtle kiss as he points at a sign that says _fall on your knees._

He seems especially thirsty today, for some reason—though she would argue that Peter never really needs a reason to try and seduce her with his own brand of dirty talk, however horrible it may be, however it makes her blink unimpressed at him, however it makes her laugh until her sides hurt. 

While it had all started as something kept strictly to the confines of their bedroom, more and more, it’s started to bleed into their everyday conversation. And every time, it has the same effect on her. She’ll stare at him, slow-blinking, lips twitching as she tries to suppress a smile. 

And, she’d be lying if she said that no matter how cringey some of his lines are… damn it, they kind of work. She’s too attracted to him as a whole for them not to. 

“MJ.”

She hears his voice on the other end of the aisle. Insistent, a self-indulgent chuckle hiding under his tone. 

Her lips press into a thin line as she pointedly ignores him, continuing to browse the different tea towels. 

“MJ,” he says again, louder this time. Childish, even. 

Still, she doesn’t look at him, shaking her head as she purses her lips.

_“MJ!”_

His voice is suddenly right next to her, and she jumps, turning to see him holding up one of those weird Elf on the Shelf dolls. 

“What?” She hisses. 

There’s that damn, stupid grin on his face as he pokes the felt figurine, his bottom lip caught between his teeth when she narrows her eyes. “When I think about you, I touch my _elf.”_

And as usual, it takes everything not to smile. She bites the inside of her cheek. “You’re an idiot.” 

His smile widens to levels of supreme dopiness. “I’m _your_ idiot,” he says with all the affection in the world. 

“Unfortunately,” she shakes her head, huffing, though she can’t help the way her lips curve into a smile, the way her face warms. And for a moment, she thinks he’s done. He’s had his fun. He’s made her smile. 

“Wanna cradle my dreidel?” He asks under his breath, his hand dangerously low on her back. 

The sudden snort of laughter she lets out startles some poor old lady on the other end of the aisle. 

iii.

If she thinks she’s free the minute she gets back to the apartment, she’s sorely mistaken. Okay, maybe not _sorely,_ per se. But she is very much mistaken. 

It’s again, as they’re deciding what dish to bring to Flash’s holiday get together later in the evening, rifling through their pantry and fridge in search of any usable ingredients. 

“We’ve still got these pie shell things,” Peter says, holding up the box of premade pie crust from the freezer. “Pie’s are always nice. For holidays and what not.” 

Ah, yes. The ones they forgot to bring to May’s for Thanksgiving—making them have to run to the store on a major holiday for something that was pretty much already sold out. Perfect. 

“Great. A pie’s good,” MJ says, feeling a sense of relief that they don’t necessarily have to leave the apartment again. At least until tonight. “What kind do you think?”

Peter looks up, titling his head as his lips twist in though. But then, his gaze flits to her briefly. 

“I’ve always liked creampies.” 

This time she might actually hit him. 

iv.

She’s just pulled her sweater on over her head when Peter walks into the bedroom, his eyes instantly drinking her in, from the top of her head to the bottom of her feet. His appreciative gaze sets a warmth in her stomach and chest, and she bites back her smile as she pushes her hair over her shoulder, tucking an errant curl behind her ear. 

His smile is is bright, and his eyes meet hers in the mirror as he comes to stand behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist as he murmurs into her hair, “God, can’t wait to hurry down your chimney tonight.”

And to think she’d started to lean into him. She scoffs, smacking his arm gently. “Shut up.”

“Seriously,” he says, a laugh under his tone as he steps back. His hand lingers though, falling to play with the hem of her black skirt, gently brushing her thigh through her black tights. “You look really pretty. Easily one of my top favorite outfits.” He pauses, tilting his head in thought. “Besides nothing. You should wear nothing more often.”

“Note taken,” she says, nodding slowly, holding herself together—at least attempting to. 

“And honestly,” He muses. “I think taking this off—” he tugs at the sweater, his voice lowering. “—would really elevate the look. You know what? The skirt too.”

She quirks a brow at him in the mirror, though there’s nothing she can do to prevent her smile from widening. “Oh, so I should just… take my clothes off?”

“Let me be perfectly clear,” he replies, trying to be serious, his hands holding her waist, dropping to her hips and giving a tempting squeeze. “You should always be taking your clothes off.”

It’s amazing how this idiot can make her feel so lightheaded, how he can make her entire body feel that blurry warmth. It’s him, clearly it is, because she’s not sure she’d ever take that kind of shit from any of her other past relationships. 

Peter’s just _Peter._

“Keep it in your pants, Parker,” she teases when he tugs her closer, her back against his chest. She knows what he’s doing; exactly what. 

And again, it’s not going to work. 

Unlike him, she has a sense of self-control. 

No matter how hot her boyfriend is. 

His laugh causes her stomach to flip pleasantly. “But, baby, all I want for Christmas is _you.”_

“You’re Jewish?”

“So?” 

She turns in his arms, facing him now, her palms pressing into his chest. “Also it’s not Christmas yet?” 

“Christmas eve is pretty much Christmas.”

She blinks.

“Where’s your sense of imagination? Your holiday spirit?” He asks earnestly, squeezing her gently. “Now what do you want? Naughty? Or Nice?” His face lights up. “Oo! Both.”

It’s a wonder her eyes don’t roll out of her head and onto the floor, or that her cheeks fall off from how hard she’s trying not to smile. She ignores the conversation. “We’re gonna be late to Flash’s. Come on.” 

“Eh, I think there’s time.” Peter’s hand falls to hers, locking their fingers together as he pulls her close, his lips finding his favorite spot on her neck easily. 

In spite of the ticking clock in her mind, she closes her eyes, sighing softly at the feeling of his soft kisses pressing into her skin. 

“Flavortown has holiday hours right?”

And it’s the wicked grin on his face when he pulls back to look at her that causes her to snap back to reality. She laughs, her body practically screaming in protest as she steps fully away from him and out of his warmth. 

v.

The whole car ride to Flash’s feels like an eternity, given the lack of time for a pre-party quickie back at the apartment. Peter’s hand stays on her thigh, the other on the wheel, and it’s clear that he’s not paying all that much attention when he stalls at one or two red lights, startling when there’s a chorus of honking from behind them. 

Though it’s a seemingly innocent touch—he never ascends past the hemline of her skirt—it still burns her skin through the thin material of her tights. It still causes her mind to go places where it really shouldn’t go while he’s driving, while they’re on their way to a friend’s holiday party. All day, it’s been a constant game between them, and at first, MJ had assumed that she had the upper hand. 

Now, however, she’s not sure. 

She’s tried her best to ignore his dumb jokes mingled with legitimate propositions, and for the most part, she’s been successful. 

But she just knows he’s going to try something stupid at the party. She doesn’t know what, but she knows _him._

Surprisingly, however, Peter’s able to behave himself for the first hour. He mingles with everyone, never once making a suggestive comment, never once does his hand fall past the appropriate spot on her back. It’s honestly a bit of a shock. 

But of course, all things must come to an end. 

It’s as Flash is overexplaining the different stockings on his fireplace—all for him apparently—when Peter returns with a drink in hand, his voice lowered as he leans in to whisper. “Did we bring any stocking stuffers?”

Michelle’s brow furrows in confusion. “No? Why would we?”

Peter seems puzzled for a moment, lips twisting in thought, before his eyes light up. “Oh! I forgot.” 

“Wha—”

“I brought the most important one.”

She’s ashamed that it takes her more than five seconds to process what he’s said, to get it, but when she does, it’s a slow blink and a heavy sigh. “Is it in your pants—”

“—It’s in my pants.”

+i

Okay, so maybe she doesn’t have as much self control as she’d originally thought. 

But she can’t honestly find it in herself to care, especially with Peter’s mouth hot on hers, pushing her into the dresser in one of the spare bedrooms, his hands greedy as they travel her body, hungrily twisting and pulling at her clothes. 

She’d dragged him in here not two minutes ago, after one “candy cane” joke too far. She’d been pushed right over that edge. 

He tilts his head, deepening the kiss, and she lets out the softest of moans as his tongue slips into her mouth, one of his hands falling to grip her ass. His groan as he presses his hardness against her causes the heat in the pit of her stomach to flare, her hold on him to tighten, clinging desperately. 

When she finally pulls back, her chest is heaving, her breath catching as his lips and tongue drag along the underside of her jaw. How he’s so good at just this, something so seemingly simple, how he can reduce her to a puddle of nerves with a few touches, she has no idea. 

But, God, she needs him _now._

Her hands move to his shoulders, gently pushing him down to where she wants him. 

But he holds still, pushing back against her, stubborn. His gaze meets hers, almost challenging, a sly smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “What do you want?” He asks, knowing perfectly well what.

Her eyes narrow as she smirks. “You know what.”

“I don’t follow,” he says, pressing a kiss to the inside of her palm. “You gotta be more specific.”

On one hand, her body’s screaming at her to just jump his bones, to climb him like a tree, etc. But on the other, it wants her to drop kick him off of a mountain. “Peter…” She groans, her head falling back. 

“Am I gonna be a DJ?” He asks, and she snorts. “Am I gonna spin you all night long like a little dreidel?”

MJ’s brow furrows. “I thought your dick was the dreidel?” 

He playfully pinches her sides, shaking his head with a laugh before looking up at her again. “Am I going somewhere? To eat, maybe?”

“God, just—” she shakes her head, lips pressing together stubbornly. It’s the mischievous glint in his eyes that tells her exactly what he wants her to say. 

And dammit, she’s too horny for this. 

“Go to Flavortown.”

His giggle makes her heart nearly burst out of her chest. 

“I dunno. Is it open right now? It is almost Christmas.”

“Doors are always open for you,” she almost laughs.

“I’m on it.” She’s cut off by Peter spinning her around, his hand splaying on her back and pushing her chest into the top of the dresser as he bends her forward. A heady rush of excitement flares within her, and she shifts on her feet in anticipation. His hands slide under her skirt and up to her waist, thumbs hooking under the waistband of her tights. The brush of his knuckles against her skin leave goosebumps in its wake as he peels them—and her underwear—down to her knees, and she gasps as the cool air hits her center. 

He’s mumbling some song under his breath—one that sounds suspiciously festive. She looks back at him, a confused grin tugging at her lips when he sings aloud, _“Spider-Man is coming to Flavortown…”_

He bunches her skirt at her waist, and before she can even think to say anything about his song, his mouth is on her. Her knees buckle, glad to be gripping the dresser as tight as she is, when he licks a long stripe up—or down for her—her slit. His tongue is all over, languidly lapping at her, gathering her wetness and spreading it messily over her swollen clit. 

A wet gasp falls from her lips as he brings two fingers up to tease her entrance, circling lazily as he sucks her clit into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue. 

“Fuck, _Peter—”_

The warmth in her belly grows hot, boiling even, as he fervently and eagerly works her heat, moaning openly into her cunt. His fingers are skilled as they curl into her, sliding in effortlessly and finding her spot. The vibrations of his hums are addictive, intoxicating, but still make her smile when she realizes it’s even more holiday music that he’s humming. 

“You’re such— _fuck_ —such a dork,” she says, breathless, mouth curved into a wavy smile as her cheek presses into the wood of the dresser. 

He laughs against her, though his pace doesn’t falter. It stays relentless, and continues eating her out like it’s the last meal he’ll ever have. 

She comes with a choked, strangled moan, her knuckles tense as she grips the side of the dresser for purchase as his fingers fuck into her, as his tongue swirls around her clit in his mouth. 

The ground feels shaky underneath her, and she doesn’t dare stand. Instead, she only melts further into the furniture, her eyes fluttering closed as she gathers her breath. 

“My compliments to the chef,” he says, dumbly, hearing the lewd sound of him licking his fingers clean.

There’s nothing she can do to hold back her the laugh that bursts out of her

But then, the sound of the metal of his belt clinking reignites that same heat, and she finds herself almost whimpering in anticipation. She nearly jumps at the feeling of his tip sliding through her folds, gently tapping against her clit as he soaks himself in her arousal. The sound of Peter’s breath hitching makes her smile, and she suddenly finds energy in herself to push back against him, to grind herself on his erection. 

He doesn’t wait another moment, a throaty groan spilling past his lips as he pushes into her, inch by inch, up to the hilt. 

His pace starts slow, giving her time to accommodate, but soon, neither of them seem to have patience. In the next second, he’s fucking into her, his rhythm almost desperate as he matches it to their ragged breaths. 

“Fuck, yes. MJ. You feel so fucking good,” he moans, punctuating each word with a hard thrust. “I’ve been wanting to do this all day. _Fuck.”_

It’s almost impossible to form words, her mouth hanging open, a croaking gasp leaving her lips when he shifts the angle. 

She only nods, too lost in the sound of skin slapping against skin, the feeling of him filling her _so well._

“I love you so much, Em,” he breathes, his voice shaky. 

“I love you, too,” she manages somehow, miraculously. 

And she looks up in the mirror, seeing the slight uptick of a smile on his lips. “Hey, Em?” He asks, his eyes meeting hers. 

_“Fuck_ —Yeah?”

His grip on her hips tightens as he picks up his pace, one hand placing a hard, but loving, smack on her ass. 

And as that smile grows, instantly, she understands. 

“Looks like we’re gonna have a white Christmas this year.”

**Author's Note:**

> im not sorry


End file.
